Unexpected Interest
1688 Words
Chapter 7 — Unexpected Interest
Jake could not stop thinking about her.
The realization alone irritated him.
Three days had passed since the gala, yet Amara Dlamini’s face continued appearing in his mind at the worst possible moments.
During meetings.
At the gym.
While drinking alone at night.
Even now, sitting inside his office overlooking downtown Cape Town, Jake found himself staring at unfinished jewelry sketches while replaying their conversation.
“Men like you are usually trouble.”
Most women tried too hard around him.
Amara hadn’t tried at all.
And somehow that bothered him more than rejection should have.
“Sir?”
Jake blinked and looked up sharply.
His assistant stood near the door holding several files nervously.
“You asked for these contracts.”
Jake cleared his throat slightly.
“Leave them there.”
The assistant placed the files down carefully before hesitating.
“There’s also another issue.”
Jake already looked annoyed.
“What now?”
“One of the investors wants reassurance about the nightclub situation.”
Jake leaned back slowly.
“Meaning?”
“The rumors are affecting public image.”
Again.
Always the same issue lately.
Jake’s jaw tightened.
“Tell them profits increased this quarter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And if they still complain, replace them.”
The assistant nodded quickly and escaped the office.
Jake rubbed his face tiredly.
Everything felt heavier lately.
His businesses.
His father.
The constant pressure.
Even the silence inside his penthouse had become unbearable since Teresa disappeared.
And now somehow a stubborn fashion designer had joined the chaos inside his head.
His phone buzzed suddenly.
Father.
Jake considered ignoring it before answering reluctantly.
“What?”
“You’re coming with me tonight.”
Jake sighed immediately.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“To where?”
“Khanyisa Fashion Studio.”
Jake frowned.
“Why would I go there?”
“Business.”
“You have employees for that.”
Mr Henry’s tone remained calm.
“You’re involved because the jewelry collection collaborates with several young designers this season.”
Jake already felt exhausted.
“And?”
“And one of them is Amara Dlamini.”
Silence.
Mr Henry smiled slightly on the other side of the call.
Exactly as expected.
“You planned this,” Jake muttered.
“I planned business.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Seven o’clock.”
The call ended.
Jake stared at his phone suspiciously.
Something about his father lately felt dangerous.
Too observant.
Too intentional.
Still…
Despite himself, curiosity stirred inside him again.
Meanwhile, across town, Amara sat at the studio floor surrounded by fabrics while trying to ignore Veronica’s dramatic excitement.
“You do realize how huge this opportunity is?” Veronica asked for the fifth time.
Amara sighed.
“You’ve only mentioned it all day.”
“The Henry Group personally requested meetings with emerging designers.”
“Requested meetings,” Amara corrected calmly. “Not marriages.”
Veronica laughed loudly.
“You’re impossible.”
Amara smiled faintly while continuing her sketches.
Since the gala, several clients had shown interest in her designs. For the first time, her dream no longer felt impossible.
It felt close enough to touch.
That terrified her slightly.
“By the way,” Veronica said casually, “Jake Henry specifically asked about you.”
Amara’s pencil stopped moving.
“What?”
Veronica smirked knowingly.
“Oh, now you’re interested.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Mhm.”
Amara looked annoyed already.
“He probably asks about every woman.”
“Actually,” Veronica replied carefully, “Jake Henry usually avoids meaningful conversations with women completely.”
Amara rolled her eyes.
“That sounds like a disaster, not a compliment.”
Veronica laughed again.
“You really don’t like him, huh?”
Amara thought for a second.
“I don’t know him.”
“But?”
“But men who grow up rich often mistake control for confidence.”
Veronica leaned against the table thoughtfully.
“And if he’s different?”
Amara snorted softly.
“He’s not.”
Still…
A tiny part of her remembered his laugh at the gala.
Unexpected.
Human.
Not as cold as she first assumed.
Which honestly made him more dangerous.
By evening, Khanyisa Fashion Studio buzzed with preparation for the Henry meeting.
Everyone dressed more carefully than usual.
Design samples covered tables while assistants rushed around nervously.
Amara remained unimpressed.
“You look too relaxed,” Veronica complained while adjusting decorations.
“Because I’m working, not auditioning.”
“You should at least pretend to care.”
Before Amara could respond, the studio doors opened.
Conversations immediately quieted.
Mr Henry entered first, elegant as always in a tailored charcoal suit.
Beside him walked Jake.
And unfortunately for Amara’s peace of mind—
He looked even better than she remembered.
Sharp black suit.
Confident posture.
Dark eyes scanning the room lazily.
Several women in the studio visibly lost concentration the moment he entered.
Amara noticed immediately and almost laughed.
Ridiculous.
Mr Henry greeted Veronica warmly while Jake wandered through the studio examining designs casually.
Then his eyes found Amara.
And stayed there.
She wore simple high-waisted trousers and a fitted cream blouse dusted slightly with fabric chalk. Her curls were tied loosely today, and she looked more focused than glamorous.
Yet somehow she stood out effortlessly.
Jake walked toward her slowly.
“Trouble,” he greeted calmly.
Amara looked up from her work without smiling.
“Arrogance.”
Jake smirked faintly.
“Still attacking me, I see.”
“You survived the first time.”
That amused him again.
Nearby designers secretly watched the interaction with fascination.
Nobody spoke to Jake Henry this way.
Nobody.
Jake glanced at her sketches spread across the table.
“These yours?”
“Yes.”
He picked one up carefully.
Unlike most designs focused purely on luxury, Amara’s work blended culture, structure, and emotion beautifully.
Even Jake, who rarely cared deeply about fashion itself, could see the talent immediately.
“You’re good,” he admitted honestly.
Amara looked surprised briefly.
“Thank you.”
Jake noticed the shift instantly.
Interesting.
She expected arrogance but not sincerity.
“You sound shocked,” he observed.
“I assumed compliments were difficult for you.”
“They usually are.”
A soft laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
Jake stared slightly longer than necessary.
Beautiful.
Not polished beauty like the women surrounding him constantly.
Real beauty.
The kind impossible to manufacture.
“So,” Amara asked while returning to work, “why exactly are you here?”
“My father forced me.”
“That sounds healthy.”
Jake leaned against the table casually.
“You always judge people this quickly?”
“Only observant people.”
“And what have you observed about me?”
Amara met his eyes calmly.
“You’re angry.”
The answer hit him unexpectedly hard.
Jake’s expression shifted slightly.
“You got all that from one conversation?”
“And the way everyone here stiffened when you walked in.”
Jake glanced around subtly.
She wasn’t wrong.
Employees watched him carefully.
Nervously.
Used to powerful men fearing nothing, Jake suddenly became aware of how intimidating his presence truly felt.
Amara continued sketching calmly.
“People shouldn’t look scared when someone enters a room.”
Jake’s jaw tightened slightly.
“And yet you’re not scared.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Amara shrugged lightly.
“Because I’ve survived worse things than rich men with attitude problems.”
For the first time, Jake didn’t have a clever response immediately.
Before he could speak again, Veronica approached excitedly.
“Mr Henry,” she said to Jake, “would you like to see the fitting room concepts?”
“Not particularly.”
Veronica looked awkward instantly.
Amara hid a smile.
Jake noticed.
“You enjoyed that,” he muttered.
“A little.”
Unexpectedly, he laughed softly again.
And once more, Amara hated how attractive that laugh sounded.
Across the studio, Mr Henry quietly watched everything beside Mr Maloi, who had arrived earlier unnoticed.
“Well?” Mr Henry whispered.
Mr Maloi smiled knowingly.
“She challenges him naturally.”
“And Jake?”
Mr Maloi’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“He’s already curious.”
Back near the design tables, Jake picked up another sketch.
“You designed all these alone?”
“Yes.”
“No team?”
“No wealthy investors either, if that’s your next question.”
Jake smirked slightly.
“You assume I care about money too much.”
“Don’t you?”
He considered the question carefully.
Money had always meant power in his world.
Security.
Control.
Without money, people left.
That lesson buried itself deeply after his mother died and his father disappeared into endless work.
Finally, Jake answered quietly.
“It makes life easier.”
“Not always.”
Their eyes met briefly.
Something shifted subtly between them.
Not romance.
Not softness.
Recognition.
Two people who viewed the world differently yet somehow understood loneliness in each other.
Then Jake’s phone rang sharply, breaking the moment.
He checked the screen and irritation returned immediately.
“What?” he answered coldly.
Even from where she stood, Amara heard shouting from the other side.
Jake’s nightclub manager.
Problems again.
Jake’s expression darkened more with every second.
“I said handle it,” he snapped before ending the call aggressively.
The tension around him returned instantly.
Like a storm covering sunlight.
Amara watched quietly.
There it is, she thought.
The real him.
Jake noticed her expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
Amara crossed her arms calmly.
“You look one inconvenience away from punching walls.”
Jake stared at her silently.
Most people feared his anger.
She analyzed it instead.
“You think you understand me already?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Amara answered honestly. “But I think you’re carrying around more rage than peace.”
Those words followed Jake long after he left the studio that night.
And for the first time in years—
Someone seeing through him felt far more dangerous than someone fearing him.
- Writer
